


well within the bounds of perfection

by Matloc



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bokushi-narrated, M/M, Post WC, UST, still gay tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matloc/pseuds/Matloc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroko invites Akashi out on a hot summer day.</p><blockquote>
  <p><br/><strong>Hypothesis:</strong> Tetsuya does this on purpose.</p>
  <p><strong>Fact:</strong> Tetsuya tugs at his collar, revealing another inch of his throat.</p>
  <p><strong>Fact:</strong> A bead of sweat rolls down the white column of skin; naturally, Seijuurou’s eyes follow. Until the trail slowly disappears behind a button fastening a school shirt around the hollow underneath his adam’s apple.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	well within the bounds of perfection

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve never written something solely based on UST so I’m not sure if this one hits the mark but please enjoy Akashi having a rage boner for Kuroko

Perfection, for a being like Seijuurou, is a state of mind. His world a realm of constants and all variables predictable. As such, little effort is spent to maintain the status quo when it comes so naturally to him. Like breathing: a steady framework of two opposing processes.

The advantage here lies in the failsafe. A momentary respiratory failure does not, even under the most inauspicious circumstances, bring about death. No promissory changes suddenly liable to his life, to his _self_.

In similar fashion, Seijuurou’s core stasis remains ensured more so in the purely hypothetical event of him ever _straying_ from said tangent of perfection.

His eyes may be at fault for this sometimes. Too many times for him to write off. Especially when his train of thoughts starts to follow his gaze. A flash of skin here and there to disrupt momentum. A permanent awareness of _heat_ mingling between bodies. Observations piling up by the number of clothing articles being shed with the rising temperature.

A probability thus exists for multiple causal factors. Tokyo’s summers are known to tinker with the brain, unscrewing certain whims one would otherwise still entertain to a lesser extent if forgoing truly ceases to be an option.

Then comes the timing, absolutely all instances of which coincide on the presence of one singular entity that’s sitting across from him right now. Dainty fingers play with the corner of a page before turning it over to peruse new contents following after. Seijuurou’s eyes are designed to track movements that may or may not be of importance to him, but during these times, there is undeniably a voluntary function to it.

Assuming the factors do hold some weight in the sole reality of Seijuurou exclusively embodying both the cause and effect on things pertaining to him, the lines between hypothesis and fact start to blur.

 **Hypothesis:** Tetsuya does this on purpose.

 **Fact:** Tetsuya tugs at his collar, revealing another inch of his throat.

 **Fact:** A bead of sweat rolls down the white column of skin; naturally, Seijuurou’s eyes follow. Until the trail slowly disappears behind a button fastening a school shirt around the hollow underneath his adam’s apple.

“And then?” he picks back up their discussion, letting a cursory bout of anger simmer at the seams of control—the momentary loss of it making him burn inside. He forces his gaze to remain trained on Tetsuya’s face from this point on. “What is honorable about a man whose eventual fate falls to destroying everything he loves, and then himself?” He gestures at the title of the book sitting in Tetsuya’s hands.

“Nothing as honorable as it is human, Akashi-kun.”

 _Human._ “Ah, yes. Your favorite word to excuse my supposed past transgressions?” mocks Seijuurou. There is nothing human about the itch currently razing his fingers, about envisioning them wrapped around a fragile neck, squeezing out sounds too heavy to form words. Yet Seijuurou is too perfect for animalistic impulses. (This begs the question, what shall he call this?)

Tetsuya bristles at the remark— _good_ —like something has burnt him. “I do not blame yo—“

“Yes, you do. You blame all of us,” he accuses, though without malice. While he holds no innate desire to unearth the past just to antagonize Tetsuya, his reactions alone make something inside Seijuurou curl with satisfaction. “Yet you never once turn the mirror onto yourself.”

It’s subtle—everything is, with Tetsuya—and it may be that Seijuurou alone is meant to see the yellowed page being slightly crumpled between his fingers. “I quit the club.”

“To escape your guilt.”

Tetsuya’s movements pause then. He turns his head to the window, watching the crowd. Perhaps he wishes to be part of it, away from Seijuurou. Away from the truths that comprise him and leave no room for others to intrude. But Tetsuya, he has known this fact from their Teikou years, has always been good at squeezing through invisible cracks.

His face relaxes into a smile, like he’s reached some epiphany Seijuurou cannot comprehend. In fact, he has never particularly wanted to understand the likes of Tetsuya. But it’s impossible not to detect a happiness that wasn’t there back in Teikou. That he has never shown Seijuurou before, only catching glimpses of joy lighting up blue eyes when the buzzer had sounded, echoing throughout the entire gymnasium.

Announcing Seijuurou’s defeat.

“I’d like to leave now,” Seijuurou grits out. Tetsuya notices the shift in tone but does nothing. “I’m sure, after our discussion, you can finish the rest of your Literature essay by yourself.” Only after speaking those words does Seijuurou realize he would—perhaps in a different universe. One that complied better with his motto for victory—like to continue their debate on Shakespearean tragedies and noble princes. He is quick to shut down rebellion, but Tetsuya’s dissenting views have always been a rarity amongst maxims of sycophancy that pour like cheap roses in Seijuurou’s wake.

Out of all his former teammates, Tetsuya had been his most imperfect mold. But calling the person who managed to defeat Akashi Seijuurou a defective product leaves a bitter taste even in his mouth, despite all his dormant rage. But also: respect.

Tetsuya sighs, and in this stuffy air of Majiba Seijuurou could easily lean in and catch it on his lips. “I just wish you’d picked a better place for our date.”

“This isn’t one.” But he pauses. Possibly to savor Tetsuya’s words. The coil in his stomach dissolves. “However, I shall pick for us a more suitable venue tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> the book in question is Hamlet. guess which one of these two i used as an allusion to Shakespeare’s tragic prince 8D


End file.
